


Trapped in the Dark

by Banashee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Injury, Buried Alive, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Protective Avengers, Survival Horror, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: Part 4 of my Bad Things Happen Bingo  - I'm on a roll today.Tony wakes up to a nightmare come to reality, buried alive in a wooden box. He needs to stay calm to get out of there because panic will only waste precious air - which he doesn't have much of down there.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701046
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95
Collections: Assassin Twins + Tony, Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Trapped in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> so, because I love a good writing challenge, I'm now taking a part in the Bad Things Happen Bingo.  
> https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/  
> Please mind the tags!
> 
> I'm cross-posting this to my tumblr, https://banashee.tumblr.com
> 
> This is my fourth square: "Buried alive".  
> Two new storeis in one day - I'm on a roll today. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for dealing with panic and trauma and anxiety issues. Obviously.

****

**Trapped in the dark**

One moment, Tony is throwing back drinks amongst a group of strangers, fake-laughing at some shitty joke, then he’s starting to feel dizzy. What happens next, he’s got no idea, but the glass slips out of his hand, shattering on the floor and spilling champagne everywhere. 

Tony blacks out before he even hits the floor.

  
  


When he wakes up in a small, dark room, he manages to remain completely calm. 

The sensation of coming back to consciousness in a strange place is something that Tony is getting depressingly used to, so he tries to stretch out his limbs in preparation to get the fuck out of - wherever he is. He doesn’t know. It’s hot and sticky in here, and there is already sweat pooling down his face and into the collar of his shirt.

And now that he tried to move, he’s realizing just how tight this space must be. His feet and hands collide with walls before he can even stretch out completely - which is concerning, given that he’s not especially tall in the first place. But it tells him that he is trapped in a box - carefully, very carefully, he does not think the word “coffin” because then he’ll freak out right away. 

But it’s essentially what this is - him trapped in a fucking coffin. Maybe or maybe not buried somewhere. he doesn’t know - yet. He’ll have to find out, sooner rather than later.

Panic rises up in his throat, heart beating fast but he forces himself to remain as calm as humanly possible.

If he had any time or air to spare, he’d have laughed out loud in desperation. 

He’s read so many books, seen so many movies where people have been buried alive, and yet, despite the shit he’s lived through, Tony would never have thought he’d have to experience this first hand. And he really, really doesn’t want to.

_“Stay calm. Don’t waste any air. Get out. You can fall apart later.”_ he thinks to himself, and it sounds easy enough in his head. He knows it’s not, but thinking about that right now will not be helpful in any way. 

Moving is hard, but Tony is flexible. 

He manages to get off the buckle of his belt - a big, heavy and pretentiously expensive thing. Solid. It’s the best tool he’s got on him right now. Whoever put him here didn’t think to remove it - thank fuck. He puts it down under himself to keep it safe and in reach, then he pushes off his suit jacket. Once he got that, he’s sweating even more but Tony still keeps his breathing slow and even. He can do this.

Pulling up his shirt over his head is not easy in here, but it’s doable. Then he knots it together at the top so the small space under the fabric protects him from inhaling any dirt. 

Once he’s got a plan and working on it, it is kind of remarkable how calm Tony is. 

He’s determined to get out, if only out of sheer spite, just so he can wave his middle fingers at the bastards who did this in a final giant “Fuck you!” before he makes his way back home.

Home.

The other Avengers are hopefully missing him by now - they must be, because otherwise it’ll be one hell of a lot longer until he gets away from here. 

One time, just one goddamn time he _doesn’t_ pack his frickin’ suit and see where it lands him - buried alive fuck knows where.

Tony swears he’ll implant the thing into himself once he’s out of here so this kind of shit will never happen again - and if it does, he’ll be able to blast himself out in a matter of seconds, instead of having to blindly hack his way out of a wooden box with his belt buckle, dirt crumbling through the openings he created.

Wriggling like a worm, and pushing the soil down to his feet, he manages to stay on top of the whole thing. He kicks back the earth and digs his way up with bare hands. He can feel the pain, blood running down his hands and fingernails ripping away. He doesn’t care and keeps going. 

Every muscle in his body is straining, and when he looks back onto the situation later, he wouldn’t be able to tell where that strength and will to keep going even came from.

But he makes it. 

After minutes of agony, finally, he can smell the fresh air from outside, and it’s the most precious thing he’s ever smelled in his entire life. 

Gasping for air, he pulls his shirt back down, and collapses on the ground, just breathing for a little while, keeping the rising panic in check. He’s in a forest, but he’s able to hear the traffic of a nearby street.

Pulling himself together and up from the soft, earthen ground, he staggers towards the noise, straining his ears and looking around him to make sure no one is following or waiting for him.

Tony doesn’t think about how terrifying he must look, covered in dirt, clothes ripped and with no shoes on, bleeding profusely from his hands and who knows where else. It doesn’t even register to him, too relieved he actually managed to get out, until he enters the nearest gas station. The cashier looks at him in horror, dropping canned drinks on the counter and almost shierking, 

“Oh my god, are you okay, Sir? Do you need me to call 911?” 

He’s sorry for scaring the poor girl - she looks barely older than 20 at the most, and having a dirty, bleeding dude stumble through the door in a night shift can’t be a pleasant experience. 

“No, no 911. But could I use a phone, please? And some water. Water would be great.” he rasps out, and she’s already handing him a bottle of water before he can finish.

“Thanks, uh-” he squints at her name tag, “Joyce. Thank you.” His voice is raspy, and he’s coughing heavily from his dry throat. 

Joyce smiles hesitantly, offering the foot stool she just used to stand on while filling up the top shelves for him to sit on, and a few paper towels so he doesn’t bleed all over the place. Ah, shit.

“Sorry for the mess.” Tony says quietly, and drains the rest of the water. He doesn’t ask for another bottle, but Joyce hands him one anyway, clearly worried he’ll die or pass out on her. 

“What happened to you?” she asks hesitantly, and he cringes, working hard to keep the rising panic at bay.

“Life.” he says, and then, after a pause. “I don’t remember much but I got out. Kinda need a phone though - I must have lost mine. Didn't have it on me when I woke up. A shame really, it was a prototype… Gotta have to start all over again… Ah, thanks.” he adds, taking the phone from her with a small smile and dials the number.

The sound of JARVIS voice is the best thing he’s heard all day. He interrupts his automatic greeting, simply calling his name and the AI sounds just as relieved to hear him like any human would. 

“Sir, I am currently tracking your location and sending the coordinates to the team - they’re already on their way and looking for you. We are all very worried.”

“Thanks, J. You’re the best.”

“May I please connect you to Captain Rogers, Sir? The team is very concerned about your well-being.”

Tony slumps back on his seat, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, sure.” A second later, Steve's voice replaces JARVIS on the other end, and he sounds equal parts worried and relieved.

“Tony, are you okay? Where are you?”

“Hey, good to hear you, too. Okay-ish. Gas-station. No idea where, but you’ll get coordinates from JARVIS.”

“Okay, okay. We’re on our way, we’ll be there soon. Sit tight, yeah?”

“Not going anywhere. Thanks, Cap.” he’s tired, and only notices his slip up when Joyce looks at him, understanding dawning on her face.

When Tony hangs up and gives the phone back to her, she looks shocked.

“You are-”

“Yeah. Hi.” 

Joyce blinks. Then, slowly, nods to herself and leaves it at that - Tony is eternally grateful for it. He doesn’t have it in him to deal with anything else right now.

“You have someone come get you?” she finally asks, and he nods.

“They’re on their way.”

A surprisingly short while later, a car speeds up onto the property and stops right in front of the door - Tony feels relief when a familiar redhead stalks out of it, rushing in and quickly crossing the room as soon as she spots him.

“Fancy seeing you here, Nat.” 

Tony is ashamed to say that his voice is holding a slight shake by now - he’s not sure if he’ll fall apart or fall asleep first - he kind of hopes for sleep, first. He’s really not up for dealing with panic attacks on top of everything else right now.

“Likewise.” Natasha carefully pulls him up, concern clear on her face. “You look like shit.”

“Well, yeah.” He slumps into her, and she puts an protective arm around his slightly larger form - it doesn’t look like he’ll be able to do much at this point. He’s really, really glad to see her, though.

“Thank you for your help.” Natasha tells Joyce, acknowledging her with a small nod and the hint of a smile. It’s not that she means to be rude or dismissive - quite the contrary, she is immensely thankful for the young woman's help, but she wants to get her friend home and to medical care as soon as possible.

About a week later, Joyce will receive a check with more 0’s than she’s ever seen at once in the mail. With it, a handwritten note with only a few words on it: 

_“Thank you for helping me. Let me know if I can ever help you.”_ followed by an email address - she’ll stare at it in stunned surprise, not knowing what to even think about it all but keeping the letter in a safe place.

When they sit in the car, Natasha helps Tony with the seat belt when his bloody fingers seem to give up - grabbing anything just hurts too much at this point and he’s sluggish and exhausted. 

Then they’re on the way to the jet where the team is already waiting, and when Natasha looks at him, something dark and predatory creeps into her eyes. She doesn’t need to be told what happened - the state of Tony, his clothes, and his hands tells her everything she needs to know. 

Unfortunately, she knows exactly what it looks like when a person needs to free themselves from a buried box in the ground - it had been part of her training when she was young. She still wakes up in cold sweat when she dreams about it, decades later. 

“Who did this to you?” Natasha asks, tone carefully even.

Tony looks over at her, heavy lidded and too worn out even for panic - he’ll have to deal with that later, but that’s okay - at least, he’ll be home or at least surrounded by friends then.

“I don’t know their names.” he tells her truthfully. If he did, he would have told her, knowing that it would be their death sentence as soon as Natasha, or Clint for that matter, would find out who and where they are. 

  
  


They still find out later, because they’re good at this kind of stuff, and the people who are responsible for hurting Tony end up in a cold grave in the ditch somewhere. 

Tony is not entirely sure what it says about him that he feels nothing but relief at the death of three men, and the fact that he can call two of the most dangerous people in the world part of his family. 

Then again, if this kind of thing ever happened to any of them and he’d manage to get his hands on whoever did it - he, too, would be capable of cold blooded murder. 

As it is, being home and knowing the team is close makes him sleep easier at night, even when he’s still plagued with insomnia and nightmares. Only now, the horrors in his mind wear the face of a dark, tight space and the smell of dirt added to it. 

It leaves him gasping for air, clawing at his throat and panicking for hours on end. 

But the comfort of a warm and clean bed, plenty of breathable air and the occasional company of a friend next to him help more than he could ever tell them. 

He tightly holds onto them, and breathing is a whole lot easier then. 

*+~

**Square 4: Buried alive**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
